i was alone once

I was alone once and I forget that. I was terribly and horribly alone. Yes, I was alone. And I forget how much that still weighs upon me. I forget how many of my actions and feelings and thoughts are direct consequences of that.

I tell other people that I don't want to tell them stories from when I was younger because they're sad and inappropriate and will bring them down. When maybe it's not just that. Maybe I don't want to bring myself down.

When I told Stefania the story of my last fight with Jessa, I couldn't look her in the eye. We, Stefania and I, joke about how great it is that I'm finally able to talk in the light of day. Another friend and I joke about how wounded everyone walking around out in the world is, but I think even in our englightenment, we forget about ourselves. Or we remember only the wounds we're able to deal with. Am I still hurt by this, or am I solely living my life in a way to stop it from ever happening again? (And by "this" I'm not trying to be vague, "this" equals my own all-encompassing, indescribable loneliness from what seems like a lifetime ago.)

Remember when I couldn't talk about anything emotional if there was light? I needed total darkness, having a sleep over. It had to be late at night and dark in the room and not in a position where we're supposed to look at each other.

I'm better, but I'm not done yet. I went through a number of months in my life without making eye contact. Maybe once a day, but probably not that much. I remember so vividly the first time I really looked someone in the eye at the end of that severe no-eye contact time. All I saw was pain. Tears swimming at the bottom of his eyes, before he said it was alright for me to go around the corner and cry. So I did. I went around the corner and I cried. Then I came back.

I remember running at ski team dry land practice and it was cold outside. My eyes started watering and I overheard some of the other people in the pack talk about their eyes watering and I realized that having tears stream down my face in that setting was not inappropriate. I could just cry and no one would look away in shame and embarrassment for me. It was almost a way to fit in. It was a long distance run in a park we only went to once because the hill was so steep we all almost fell and got injured. There were picnic tables and the boys were jumping on them and running over them and I ran along the side crying. The tears stinging my cheeks in the winter air.

When I told Stefania the story of that last fight, that fight turned breakdown, I couldn't look at her. She was on one end of the couch with her Chinese food between us, and I was sitting facing her door. I talked and I cried and I kept meaning to put chopsticks full of warm, dark noodles in my mouth, but I would forget and just keep telling the story. Sometimes it's best to just sit with the emotion. So I cried and I told her all of it and all that I had said and the way my leg was shaking. At the end I took a deep breath and forced a sarcastic smile, finally took a bite of lo mein and turned to her. Her face was red, scrunched up in pain, and streaking tears. Streaked with tears she was embarrassed to be shedding because she is one of my best friends and she knew I would only want to make her better. She was crying tears for me that she didn't want to be crying. And it looked as though she had been crying through the whole story, trying to keep it in, but I didn't notice because I kept looking anywhere but at her. It was good I didn't look over at her. I did try to make it better.

Sarah wrote me an email today that said "maybe one day you'll wake up to sunshine and revelation and realize that you are that sunshine in so many people's lives."

I was alone once. I am no longer.
Sometimes I forget I was once alone. I hope it's because I am no longer.
I will never be alone again.